Reminders of Grandma

I like to ask my Grilled Grandmas to do things I can't do. Specifically, I like to ask them to provide answers that I myself am not capable of providing.

For instance, when grilling up a grandma, I always ask What do you most want to pass along to your grandchildren? The ever gracious grandmas give profound answers I envy, especially because when I ask myself the same thing, a concise answer evades me.

The Grilled Grandma question I've most recently pondered myself is What is one word you hope your grandkids think of when they think of you? The Grilled Grandmas have offered up some awesome words in the past years of me asking them that. But can I answer that myself? Heck no! One word? You gotta be joking, I told myself.

I can, though, think of a whole list of thingsI hope make Bubby and Mac think of me. Today I'd like to share that list with you—prefaced, though, by a brief disclaimer. As Bubby is older and we've known each other longer, most on the list are things I hope currently remind him of me, but they're things I hope will eventually do the same for Baby Mac. Maybe they already do.

Things I hope remind my grandkids of me

• Colorado—as well as mountains, snow, squirrels, Pikes Peak, and the North Pole

• hugs

• the click, click and flash of a camera

• homemade ice cream

• "You have mail!"

• Mary Poppins, Jungle Book, and Robots

• popcorn—confetti and otherwise

• Raffi

• airports and airplanes

• hot tubs

• Grandma bag

• playing pirates in the park

• "We Will Rock You" (aka the Rock Dog song)

• water balloons

• Muddy Buddies

• black dogs, pointer/pits, and cats

• movie theaters

• Multi-grain Cheerios and Chester's Cheese Puffcorn

Ultimately, though, the only thing that matters does come down to one simple word. That word is Gramma. It's the one word I most want to remind Bubby and Mac of me, the one word by which they know me, the one word that is uniquely me, only me. At least when it comes to only them.

Today's question:

What things do you hope remind your grandchildren or children of you?

Story time: Good Day, Bad Day

Open communication with your grandkids matters immensely and is always worth encouraging any way you can. Here is a brief story I wrote, for you to share with the little ones in your life to initiate conversations about their days.

Good Day, Bad Day

 

Watching the clouds, imagining shapes,
Visiting the zoo and acting like apes.
Bad day?
Good day!

Falling at school, getting scratched up and bruised,
Having mud splashed on your favorite new shoes.
Good day?
Bad day!

Being picked leader for the day in your class,
Finding a ladybug deep in the grass.
Bad day?
Good day!

Riding your bike when the tire goes flat,
Then the wind blows away your favorite hat.
Good day?
Bad day!

Presents from Grandma that came in the mail,
Watching the boat you made take off and sail.
Bad day?
Good day!

Losing a fight with your older brother,
Tearing the picture you colored for Mother.
Good day?
Bad day!

Getting a shot and feeling no pain,
Seeing a rainbow after the rain.
Bad day?
Good day!

Days can be happy and days can be sad.
Good day or bad day—which have you had?

©Lisa Carpenter/art: Microsoft images

Today's question:

Good days or bad? Which have you most recently had?

The Saturday Post: Get outside and play edition

Unbelievably, this weekend (already!) serves as the official kick-off to summer. Time to fire up the grill and enjoy some fun in the sun.

If your options for outdoor fun are lacking, especially when it comes to things to do with the kids—grand or otherwise—check out these cool and creative ideas from the Toy Industry Association:

My favorite has to be the 3-D sidewalk chalk. I'll be picking up some of that, for sure, before Bubby and Baby Mac visit Gramma's in a couple weeks. Maybe the mega bubble blower, too.

For more toy ideas—including prices on the items mentioned in the video—visit ToyInfo.org.

May your Memorial Day Weekend be loads of fun—and warmer than it appears to have been for the women in that video!

Today's question:

What's your favorite way to have fun in the sun, with or without kids?

To each his own

 

Saturday is Baby Mac's first birthday party. You know, the party I won't be going to. Well, yesterday I mailed the birthday gift from PawDad and me to our youngest grandson. Megan called while I was preparing the package for mailing, and I felt compelled to tell her that I was not including something for Bubby in the box.

I realized it was an issue we'd not yet addressed, the even-steven-if-one-gets-something-the-other-gets-something-too conversation, because Bubby had been the one and only child up until his little brother came along nearly a year ago.

"The package is only for Baby Mac," I said. "It's his birthday, not Bubby's, and I won't be including a small gift for Bubby just because Baby Mac gets something."

"That's fine, Mom," she assured me. "That's not how our family rolls."

I was glad to hear that, as that's not the way our family ever rolled, either, when my daughters—Megan included—were young. As is often the case when a young family and new parents (like Megan and Preston) figure out what traditions and practices they will and will not use from their childhood when raising their own kids, I didn't want to assume Megan would do as we did, not as Preston's family did.

I don't know that Preston's family followed the even-steven-amongst-siblings rule. I'm guessing they didn't. But Megan and Preston may have a different philosophy than either of their families of origin, and I thought it important to let Megan know this grandma still doesn't roll that way and doesn't plan on reversing her rolling motion, regardless.

Baby Mac's birthday will be the first occasion that he receives gifts and Bubby doesn't—unlike Christmas and Valentine's Day and Easter. As Megan says, the event "will be interesting" as Bubby gets an important lesson in not being center stage, not being the primary recipient of all the spoils.

Though some might think it harsh, I wasn't willing to give Bubby any spoils on Baby Mac's birthday. Hence the sole gift in the package to the desert family being just for Baby Mac.

Bubby is usually an empathetic little boy, and Baby Mac's party will be his opportunity to realize that empathy includes not only when you feel bad for another, but when you feel good for them, too. Just as I wanted my daughters to empathize with others—especially their sisters—during good times and bad, I want my grandson to learn the same. I want him to be happy for others when good fortune comes their way, to delight in good things happening to those he loves, even when it's something he would oh-so-much love to happen to himself, too.

Jealousy, bitterness, envy, schadenfreude are all such easily learned feelings, attitudes, behaviors. They come naturally, it seems. No one has to teach little boys and girls such concepts, they just simply happen—even if those boys and girls don't know how to define them, what word to attach to them (or how to spell those words, such as schadenfreude, which I still have to look up).

The opposite of such things, though, seemingly must be taught, require lessons. Things such as compassion, goodwill, and sincere delight in another's good fortune.

Sometimes those lessons are learned the hard way.

Sometimes those lessons are learned the easy way—at least incrementally.

And sometimes those lessons are learned by not receiving a gift from Gramma or anyone else when your brother gets one.

It's a new lesson for Bubby, one I hope he accepts, appreciates, and takes to heart without making things too "interesting" for Megan.

I have faith in Bubby and expect it to not be too difficult a lesson for him. Because at his core, Bubby is a kind-hearted kiddo who usually does consider the feelings of others and willingly takes a backseat when necessary.

And because his birthday is just a couple weeks after Baby Mac's. He'll surely take comfort in knowing that Baby Mac will soon get that very same lesson—and at a far younger age than Bubby did.

Today's question:

Was the even-steven-amongst-siblings rule practiced in your family when you were young? What about with your own children? With your grandchildren?

Batteries included: Childproofing Grandma's house

During the days I served as sole caretaker of Bubby and Baby Mac a few weeks ago, Baby Mac's favorite thing to get into was the television cabinet. He loved nabbing the Wii remotes hidden within and walking around with one in each hand. If he didn't feel like going through the hassle of wrangling the Wii remotes out of the cabinet, he simply grabbed the universal remote for the television, which was usually nearby on the recliner or ottoman.

The kid likes remotes. No big deal.

Turns out it is a big deal, though—a big dangerous deal, thanks to the easily accessible and potentially fatal batteries inside the clickers he covets.

Because of Baby Mac's obsession with remote controls, the following news story struck quite a chord when I happened upon it Monday evening:

Scary, huh!?

Then, the very next day I received an email from the Battery Controlled campaign from Energizer and Safe Kids Worldwide. It offered stats from the American Academy of Pediatrics plus additional information on the dangers of lithium batteries, including a link to this video:

As grandparents who often have little visitors, we've childproofed our homes, just like the parents of our grandchildren have done. We've covered outlets, wrapped up window cords, secured screens on windows, bought baby gates and bathtub mats and hidden our medications and more in cabinets where little ones can't reach them. But did any of us—parents included—consider the dangers of remote controls, key fobs, hearing aids, greeting cards, bathroom scales, iPods, iPads and more?

I sure didn't.

That's no longer the case, though. Not only will I have an eye on every remote and other button battery-operated gadget next time Baby Mac and Bubby visit my house, I've shared the videos with Megan and encouraged her to do the same battery-proofing at her house.

I encourage you to do the same, too: Share the warnings with the parents of your grandchildren, and heed the warnings in your own home.

Today's question:

What's your guesstimate of how many button battery-operated gadgets you might have around your house?

This post has been linked to:

SITS Saturday Sharefest

and

Grandma guilt strikes again

Through the 20+ years I spent raising my three daughters, guilt was an emotion I wore reluctantly yet often. Daily, in fact. Obsessively. The list of things I—and other mothers, surely—had to feel guilty about was endless.

Did I nurse long enough? Too long? Eat correctly to make the best breastmilk I could? Oh, I should not have had that beer...or the second one. Did I start them in school too early? Too late? Help them enough with their homework? Or too much? And the clothes, the cool and expensive clothes I couldn't afford! I surely damaaged their self esteem making them wear hand-me-downs. Or rag rollers—that made such adorable hairstyles!—the night before special occasions. Or homemade Halloween costumes instead of the fancy store-bought kind donned by their friends. And I didn't sign up often enough as class party mom. And I made them stop trick-or-treating before their friends did...well, at least poor Brianna, the one we practiced parenting on. Sheesh, the ways we messed up that girl. Well, all the girls because we had them so close together...and we were so broke...and I was so strict. But they did get to have pagers. But it wasn't cell phones...or iPads or even computers. MAN! We didn't have a computer until they were in junior high, and then I rarely let them on it without demanding they spend time with Mavis Beacon to practice their typing before they were allowed to play VidGrid. VidGrid? Oh, yeah, I surely warped them letting them watch music videos. Well, in the later years, that is, because I had the parental lock on MTV when they were younger. Was that right to do? And was it right to make them be home for dinner every single night? Go out for at least one sport per school year? Get a job at 16? But not be allowed to work on Sundays because they had to go to church and be there for Sunday dinner? We made them pay for their car insurance, but we didn't pay for driving lessons. Oh, I just KNOW it warped them in some way for me to teach them to drive for the first time in the cemetery. But at least they couldn't kill anyone there. How horrible of me to say that...in front of them. And how horrible to demand they go to college for AT LEAST one semester before deciding if college was or was not for them. Maybe they weren't cut out for college? Maybe the student loan debt was too much for them. Maybe I was too much for them.

I know the guilt was too much for me. Patience and energy and money are all easily exhausted for parents, but guilt? Guilt continues to grow and multiply and take over one's days. At least a mom's days—and nights, feeling guilty about all those things we may have forgotten to feel guilty about during the day.

Thankfully those guilt-ridden mommy days and nights are over for me. And, fortunately, guilt-ridden isn't a defining trait of the grandma gig. That's not to say it's non-existent, though. The past couple weeks I've been faced with a bit of grandma guilt, an especially nagging grandma guilt when it comes to Baby Mac, my second grandson.

Baby Mac will celebrate his first birthday in a couple weeks. The creative invitation designed like a ticket to a baseball game came in the mail over the weekend. Megan has told me of all the bits and pieces going into the baseball-themed affair, and it sounds like it'll be a home run for pleasing ball-loving Baby Mac and entertaining all in attendance.

Thing is, I won't be attending. And I feel horribly guilty about that. Yes, I'm a long-distance grandma so such absences are to be expected. But I was (and am) a long-distance grandma with Bubby, too, and I managed to attend every single one of his birthday celebrations. There have been only three so far, but I was there for them all. Photographed them all. Sang "Happy Birthday" to my grandson at all.

But I won't be doing that for Baby Mac. Because he—and his brother—will be visiting my house for an extended stay just a few weeks after his birthday. So it's silly to pay the money to fly 815 miles to the desert to sing Happy Birthday, eat some cake, take some photos. We'll just have a second party at Gramma and PawDad's when the boys arrive for their visit.

Actually, we'll have two birthday parties when the boys visit in June, because Bubby's birthday is mere days before the boys come to the mountains, so we'll have one for him, too. We have a fun activities planned: one will include a dinosaur museum visit; one will feature a visit to my sister's ranch so the boys can ride Shetland ponies. Aunt B and Aunt Andie will get to attend. It will be awesome.

But I still feel guilty. For not attending my second grandson's very first birthday party. Well, and for not attending my first grandson's fourth birthday party. Their real parties. The ones Mom has planned for both boys. At their own home, with their own friends.

Grandma guilt. There's nothing worse.

Except, of course, mommy guilt.

Today's question:

How does grandma guilt compare to mommy guilt in your life?

Friday field trip: Children's Museum of Phoenix

On the final day of my recent stay with Bubby and Baby Mac, we went to the Children's Museum of Phoenix. The museum is located less than 10 minutes from the airport, so it was a great way to end the visit—and gave us a spot to play in case my flight was delayed.

The Children's Museum of Phoenix is three floors of fun and one of Bubby's favorite places to play. It was Baby Mac's first time there, and he found plenty of fun himself.

We started on the top floor, with the plan to work our way down. The "Noodle Forest" is the highlight there and something Bubby couldn't wait to show Gramma. Right outside the forest is a paint-with-water activity that proved Baby Mac to be a passionate artist.

It was just the beginning of my last few delight-filled hours with my grandsons:

 

Other exhibits on the third floor include a shopping market, ice cream cart, a "Texture Cafe" for making meals with various materials, a "Grand Ballroom" where you can see the chain reaction from beginning to end, make-believe pickle and pencil cars, and much, much more. It's easy to see why the third floor is Bubby's floor of choice.

The second floor features a "Building Big" room for making forts of all shapes and sizes, a trike wash, and an art studio with ongoing projects (Bubby made a pretty butterfly and helped paint a purple rocket).

On the first (atrium) floor, the main attraction is the Schuff-Perini Climber, a climbing gym like you've never seen before. It's visible from all floors, and I climbed with Bubby all the way to the top...in a dress and thankful it was a rather slow day so Gramma could take her time. The first floor also has a Whoosh! machine of connected tubes where kids can feed nylon scarves through and watch them fly—one of Baby Mac's favorite exhibits, along with the many "Baby Zone" play areas throughout the museum.

The atrium wall is lined with a stunning display of CDs hanging from top to bottom. A museum worker told me children from around the area, including a school for homeless children, wrote wishes on the CDs to be hung on the wall at the museum's opening about four years ago. She said the wishes are touching and sometimes heartbreaking to read, everything from "I want an iPod" to "I want my daddy to come home."

Our visit to the museum was exhilerating—and exhausting. Bubby and Baby Mac were sound asleep in their car seats by the time we made it to the airport, just minutes after leaving the museum. When Megan dropped me off at the departure curb, I opened Bubby's door to give him a farewell kiss; with eyes still closed, he mumbled, "I love you...send me mail." Totally zonked-out Baby Mac got a kiss, Megan got a hug, and Gramma headed for home.

The Children's Museum of Phoenix was a great way to end my visit to the desert. We just might have to make pre-flight visits there a farewell tradition.

Interested in taking a similar field trip? Find details here:

Children's Museum of Phoenix • 215 N. 7th Street, Phoenix, AZ 85034 • (602) 253-0501

(If you want to see the full pictures from our visit or see them more slowly, feel free to take a look in my Brag Book.)

Today's question:

If you were asked to write a wish on a CD like those in the stunning display at the Children's Museum of Phoenix, what would today's wish be?